I touch things. Feel. Pet. Caress. I connect with my hands. My arms. My lips. My feet.
My first impression of Guatemala was one that made my eyes leak. The glassy ripple of a lake shimmered across my pupils as I witnessed a surprise homecoming at Guatemala City airport.
Lust was unpredictable. Her lust had its big bang somewhere between 1992 and 1994. She didn’t know its name at the time. Only that it was hungry.
Last November, I entered the Canada Writes Short Story competition. My entry didn't make the long list, but I thought I'd share it here.
I’m sitting at a desk. In a large rented bedroom with a single bed, dresser drawers, and clothing rack. The ancient wood floors squeal when stepped on, much to the chagrin of… Read More
There have been leaping jellybeans inside me. They made me move in ways I’ve never bent before. They made my heart ba-boom to the stars and back. They clenched my lungs into… Read More
There are places you go, you travel, that just graze the skin. You’re there and you see and you enjoy but you’re never really inside the place and the place is never… Read More
I found a Cuban coin in my purse today. And I wore sandals still coated with Havana’s streets. It’s been a month since I returned. And I swear there’s still dust in… Read More
I’m going steady with the number 18. It began on the adolescent sentimentality (read: unhealthy obsession) of a first kiss occurring on the 18th of February, 1994. From that moment on, I… Read More
Originally published on the Vancouver Sun blog on December 8, 2015. I like secrets. I know you do too. The kind that bubble under your skin, aching to burst out, and pop… Read More
Painting pictures with words.
I flirt with words, spin sentences, and dance with metaphors.
Tongue tickling cheek.